


Press

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Coping, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 14:21:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6054802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris did not offer her words. He had said as much that words would not appease the situation. He did not touch her, save for the brush of her finery against his armor, where their arms brushed from where they sat side-by-side.</p><hr/><p>Marian/Fenris, post All That Remains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Press

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I didn't intend to write this scene _again_ , but you know, my Marian has a totally different personality to my Garrett, so it happened. I love that it's both Hawke and it's both the same scene and the same game, but you get a different view for each Hawke you play.
> 
> ~~I'm romancing Anders on a extra save, so who the hell knows if I'll end up writing a piece to go with his scene if he has one XD~~
> 
> I do not own _Dragon Age II_. Thanks for reading!

Marian wasn't certain how long Fenris sat there next to her, all dark skin and sad eyes, lyrium markings and armor. But he still sat there, silent, the close press of humanity, the press of care, against her side. Fenris did not offer her words. He had said as much that words would not appease the situation. He did not touch her, save for the brush of her finery against his armor, where their arms brushed from where they sat side-by-side. She did not know what he was doing here, truthfully, given his unwillingness to continue their relationship, or his apparent inability to speak words of comfort. But she did not wish him to leave.

Marian wasn't certain how long Fenris sat next to her, in the manor that was suddenly devoid of life despite the people that were still here. The fire light did little to alleviate the darkness that had spread over their - _her_ \- home like a fog, like a sickness. It was lifeless, it was dark, it was silent save her and Fenris's breathing in the bedroom. How could she live with this silence? How could she live in this manor? This was not _her_ manor, it was Mother's. Except Mother wasn't here. Leandra wasn't there, and Carver wasn't there, and Bethany wasn't there. It was her. It was only her. Her, and Fenris, but only for the moment.

Marian wasn't certain how long Fenris sat next to her as the seconds ticked away into minutes. She could hear the passage of time from the clock, only the ticking of the clock hands over the pop and crack of the fire. Seconds into minutes, and minutes into hours, _endless hours_ \- or had it only been a moment? She was not sure how much time had passed. Was time even continuing to move? Of course it was, she knew, and yet... the clock hands continued to move. The world continued to go on outside of the manor, heedless of Leandra's death. She was the only one trapped in the chaos between, the moments between those cold, dark tunnels and the warmth emanating from Fenris's body next to her.

Marian wasn't certain how long Fenris sat next to her before she started to cry.

It surprised her at first; she didn't realize until she felt the warm wetness against her cheeks and Marian reached up to touch at the tears, shocked when her fingers came away wet. And then she just stared, stared at the wetness on her fingertips as the tears continued to roll down her cheeks.

It wasn't until Fenris spoke - a startled sounding, unsure _"Hawke?"_ \- that her fascination with her tears was broken; she was lost.

She hadn't cried in so long, she had almost forgotten what it was like. She was reminded how much she _hated_ it, and why she did not allow herself to cry at all. The tears, the snot, and the sounds that jerked from her throat, the ones she tried to stifle into her skin as she buried her face into her hands.

"Hawke," Fenris repeated, voice deep and rough and uncertain. "Hawke? What am I..." he trailed off. His voice was replaced with rustling that Hawke didn't dare to raise her eyes and look towards, followed by a thump and a thud. Two singular objects hitting the floor with a metallic sort of sound, and then warm, lithe arms were around her, the press of Fenris's body closer to hers. His lyrium markings visible for a fleeting moment as Marian opened her eyes in surprise, before he pulled her awkwardly over into his chest. His armor was uncomfortable, pressing into her chest and bosom and arms, but he was there, gauntlets discarded so that his arms could embrace her, fingers pressed firmly against her shoulders.

It was the saddest attempt at any sort of comforting hug that Marian had ever been a part of. _Maker._

She wanted to laugh. It came out as a garbled sob instead.

She fumbled for purchase on anything of his, unable to come up with clothing and settling for his arm instead. She didn't hug him back, couldn't hug him back. It was too much energy, and she didn't even _know_... what the state of their... relationship was...

Fenris's fingers stroked against her skin softly, murmuring things under his breath that Marian soon realized were parts of that language he spoke, sometimes. It was without the usual edge. Words that flowed like lullaby from his lips. He held her close - still awkward, oh, how he was so awkward - but he did not hold her so tightly that it permitted her to pull away if she desired.

Marian did not.

Instead, she braced her hand against his thigh to stop herself from burying her face in his lap. She would not do that, not become the wailing maiden thrown across her suitor's lap, begging the Maker _please_ , please bring her back, please let this be a dream, please don't let Fenris leave me, again, like everyone else, _please_.

Fenris did not dissuade her, and only when her tears had run out did Marian start to wonder what she said now. What she was supposed to do now. Not even in the future - she couldn't think about that now - but right now, in this instant, her head still tucked against Fenris's body. What was she supposed to say after this lapse in control, when she had built up some image that said she could keep herself above it all? To say that she was untouched by everything. Fenris would think her weak now, and so would the rest of Kirkwall.

Despite the rocky legs that they had built their relationship on, fraught with much disagreement and sighs or scowls, it hurt Marian to think that _Fenris_ , of all people, would be the person who thought she was actually the weakest.

Fenris spoke first. "Things will settle."

Marian sniffed, pulling herself away from Fenris to rub her sleeve against her face. Andraste's tits, she _hated_ crying. "‘Things will settle’?" she echoed, with only the slightest smile. "You're so romantic."

"I do not intend it to be romantic," Fenris said. "I cannot say that things will get better, for I do not know. Happiness in the future is not guaranteed. Look at me," he muttered. "But things will settle. Eventually."

Marian rubbed her nose roughly. She was exhausted. "We'll find Danarius, Fenris."

"I am not talking about Danarius."

 _He is never far from your mind, though,_ Marian thought, but she did not say so out loud. They would find him one day, though; she was certain. Fenris would get the revenge he wanted. Marian wondered if it would feel as hollow as she felt now, even having killed the bastard that had done this to Mother.

She pushed away from the bed, nearly tripping over Fenris's discarded gauntlets on the floor. She blew her nose and pressed her hands against her eyes, hovering in front of the fire.

"I should go," Fenris said, stooping to collect his things. And then straightened up almost as quickly as he had spoken. "Unless I should stay?"

This time, Marian did laugh out loud, rampant emotion bursting forth in uncontrollable mirth. "The look on your face as you said that, Fenris... you just contradicted yourself."

Fenris looked on. The look on his face was less pensive than usual, and infinitely more uncertain than Marian was used to seeing on him. "I wouldn't know. These concepts... ‘comfort’ is a foreign topic to me. I wish to share your burden, but nothing in my enslavement taught me how."

Marian smiled weakly. "You knew by instinct. You came, Fenris, that was enough." The fact that he could be so open about his uncertainty but still manage to pull himself from his comfort zone was... more than what most people did. His uncertainty made it more raw, more _real_.

Fenris looked back at her. His eyebrows were furrowed, but his gaze was soft. "I... do not know if you wish to be alone or with someone. I do not know if I should leave you here, or if I would stay with you. What... would you prefer?"

"Liquor, loving, and sleeping until the sun doesn't rise," Marian said sarcastically, but Fenris was still looking at her, with perhaps more confusion and worry in his eyes now. "I was kidding, Fenris."

"Oh."

"Although I could do with the booze..." Marian sighed, and strode away from the fire. "Join me for a drink?"

Fenris ducked his head. "If you will have me."

"Always," Marian said, gesturing to the door.

Fenris did not hesitate, leading the way.

 

Marian didn't remember much of the night. She remembered her and Fenris, settled into the library. She sat in front of the hearth, a well-aged bottle in her hand. It was something that Aveline had brought over, years ago. Fenris sat, cross-legged on the floor by the fire, flicking through pages in the latest book he had been learning to read by. His silver hair shined in the light from the flames, illuminated his long fingers as he ran them over the worn book pages.

She woke up sprawled out horizontally across the bed, blankets thrown over her haphazardly. She thought she could remember being slung over Fenris's shoulder as he carried her into the bedroom... or had that been a dream? She pushed herself up, and the headache that met her said the alcohol had very much been real. She was still in her finery, and she had been too numb to try anything last night, but Fenris was gone as she looked around the room.

"Messere," Bodahn greeted softly as Marian descended the stairs. "It is good to see you awake. Your friend, the elf, left a note on the desk. He dictated. I wrote it for him."

"Ah? Thanks, Bodahn," she murmured, rubbing her swollen eyes as she went to the desk. In Bodahn's writing the note was, but Marian could read it in Fenris's voice without effort.

_I am here if you need me. Call, and I will return._  
_Yours, Fenris_

Marian smiled faintly. Fenris was... he wasn't perfect, by any means, but then again, neither was she. Marian liked imperfect, and she could imagine going into this future with no one besides Fenris.

"Bet it killed him to say that out loud," she teased, folding the paper up.

"He did seem a trifle awkward, now that I recall," Bodahn replied.

 _He's precious._ Marian just smiled as she went to change into her armor.

Yesterday was over, and today was a new day. She had things to do... with Fenris by her side, all the same.

 


End file.
